


One Foot in the Oil

by Nitrobot



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 17:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1312657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitrobot/pseuds/Nitrobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While hunting the Relic of the Week onboard the Nemesis, Smokescreen finds himself trapped in the washracks... with armourless Airachnid for company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Foot in the Oil

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this lying around unfinished since last year, and with March being self designated as Smokescreen/Airachnid month I thought I'd might as well get it finished. Because who doesn't love Smoke being the dorky virgin he is?

Smokescreen really didn't see what the big deal with the Nemesis was. Oh sure, it was big, it could fly and was crawling with parasites, but so were Insecticons and he'd yet to be paralyzed by the sight of one of them. And yeah, the hallways _were_ pretty wide, but they had to be to allow the Decepticons to shove their fat afts through them every day.

And okay, there _was_ quite a lot of footsteps behind him-

Footsteps?

Scrap.

He'd plastered himself against a curving pillar just as the squad of Vehicons walked by, headed by a cluster of red plating that Smokescreen scowled at the sight of. _'Knockout...'_ Nothing sparked his circuits more than 'Cons with armour capable of blinding you on the battlefield with polish shine. And ever since the Decepticon prisoner pod, he wasn't keen on having a 'check-up' from medic claws again.

He only let his ventilations restart when the steps and the air-grating voice of Knockout finally faded, and even then his processor was still lagging in panic. He had no idea how this Primus-forsaken ship was laid out, and for all he knew any corridor could bring him face to face with the barrel of a laser cannon. _'Need to hide, need to hide...'_

There was only one door in sight at the end of the hallway, and he cursed at the sound his peds made as he ran for it. As it yawned open he dived and brought his servo blaster out, aiming in a kneel as the door hissed closed behind him.  
There were stalls lined up along the wall in front of him, pipes dripping with oil in each of them with a drain set in the floor.   
Washracks. Great. That was a useful place to keep a relic.

Still, at least it was empty...

Except for that figure of purple protoform folding a towel over a servo behind a screen.

"A-Airachnid!" In brief hindsight he figured it probably wasn’t helpful yelling out the name of what was surely about to kill you in the next five klicks, but the squeak left his vocaliser before he could stop it. Somehow he managed to get his blasters out before the spider fully turned to face him.

"D-don't move or I'll shoot-!"

"Oh, put that thing _away_ , boy," Airachnid scoffed with her optics rolling- and strangely _not_ brimming with murderous fury. "Do I _really_ seem to be in any position to attack you?"

Smokescreen was at a loss, caught in shock at the fact that he was still alive and not having his spark melted with acid- or whatever it was that Airachnid did.

"N-no, but you're a Decepticon!” He jabbed his blaster barrels forward as what he guessed passed as a defense mechanism. “You have all kinda tricks stored away somewhere-" He only noticed the spider’s raised eyeridge because he was trying to look everywhere that wasn’t purple. And naked.

"Even if I did, they'd all be stashed in my armour, now wouldn’t they?" She turned her back to him as she wound her towel around her, _far_ too slowly for the sake of Smokescreen’s codpiece. "Feel free to look through them; though do be careful with the interface covers." He was glad that she couldn’t see the blush unmistakably staining his faceplate.

“You’re not gonna... k-kill me?” He tried not to sound too hopeful, even though death would be his own damn fault for not shooting the Decepticon as soon as her back was turned (mostly because the towel wasn’t long enough to cover her whole frame and he got... distracted). 

“Autobot, I’ve had a long day surrounded by drones even dumber than you, and I have no intention of getting where I bathe stained with energon.” Her sigh echoed heavy over the shower stall screen as she dipped behind it. “If you’re _really_ so desperate for death, I could easily have _Megatron_ down here in a klick-“

“NOOOO, no, nono no, _noooo_ , that will _not_ be necessary _, nooo_ siree.” Smokescreen was already backing towards the door with his hands back in place of blasters. “I’ll just-uh, show myself out then-“

"Knock knock." His ingenious escape route was torn from his grasp at the sound of Knockout’s voice again, just behind the washracks’ only exit.

“Hm, bad luck, Autobot,” Smokescreen heard Airachnid practically smirking as he frantically searched for somewhere, _anywhere_ to hide. All the other stalls lacked screens to shield him from view, and even with them Knockout would no doubt look behind it anyway- Primus dammit, he didn’t survive centuries rusting in stasis in a Decepticon escape pod, only to get killed just after meeting Optimus Prime himself- in the washracks by a fragging medic, no less-!

“If you’re truly so adamant about staying alive, Autobot, I’d get in here quick.” Airachnid’s voice under the hiss of oil dragged him out of his impromptu medic-strangling fantasy, and his optics went white-hot at the sight of her shower screen pulled aside and her protoform glistening under the stream.

“H-How do I know you haven’t _poisoned_ the oil, or you’re gonna push me out right in front of him, or-or-“

“Just _get in_.” If the exhaustion in her voice didn’t convince him that it was the best option available to him, then her next words echoing against the tiles made him dive right in beside her.

“Just me, Knockout! Do come in, if you wish!” The screen closed back over just as the washrack door hissed open, medic peds hitting against the damp tiles underneath. Smokescreen’s heavy vents were only barely covered by the sound of falling oil droplets.

“Don’t mind if I do, Airachnid...”

 _'Son of a fragger,'_ Smokescreen thought with a groan as a far-too familiar silhouette spread along the shower guard, leaning against the screen. 

"Finally learnt the common courtesy, Knockout?" Airachnid asked out with a grin at Smokescreen as he tried to sink into the wall corner. A chuckle answered her before words.

"What can I say, your penchant for manners is rubbing off on me."

"And knowing you, you'd rather have something rubbing _against_ you." Even in the stifling warmth around him Smoke shivered at Knockout’s chuckle, but his optics automatically squeezing closed gave his processor a rest from Airachnid’s body stretching bare under the oil.

"You know me so well."

"What I _know_ is that you didn't come in just to sweet talk me, Sweet Rims," she accused with servos high above her head, reaching down to scrub at her back. Smokescreen tried to ignore her thrust-out chestplates as a moaned _'Oh Primus, I love it when you call me that,'_ wafted over the screen. 

"Sadly not, dear. I'm in pursuit of an Autobot who's found his way on the ship. You haven't by any chance seen or heard him running about?"

Airachnid threw a smirk at Smokescreen's shaking form before replying. "If he's looks anything like you, I'll have noticed..."

"Oh, he _wishes_ ," Knockout scoffed, and Smokescreen couldn't help but feel slightly offended. Okay, totally offended. At least he had style and speed... "Flashy white finish, blue stripes, racing numbers, around my height."

“ _He forgot cute,_ ” Airachnid muttered so only Smokescreen could hear, and he could practically feel his codpiece about to burst and his faceplate melting from the heat blooming in them.

"I'm afraid I haven't seen anyone like that around, sweetspark,” she said to Knockout. “But good luck finding him."

"Oh, I'm sure Starscream's search party can handle him for now... needing any help washing your back?" Smokescreen's expression of pure horror was enough to make Airachnid giggle.

"I think I can manage this time, Knockout. I might have something for you to do later tonight though..."

"I look forward to it,” his growl promised as he pushed off of the screen and took his leave. Only when the dreaded silhouette finally disappeared did Smokescreen let his blocked vents shove all his relief out in one long whine. Then came the groans of disgust and, undoubtedly, arousal. His legs spread out from underneath him as his head fell back and hit against the stall wall.

“Primus, you really _are_ evil!” 

“I pride myself on it,” she said, smirking as she rubbed her horns. 

“But, y-you’re really not gonna _kill_ me? Or send me to Megatron or-“ The message for him to shut up came in an unconventional way- wrapped in a purple kiss that shoved itself against his mouth and his back against the wall. By the time he processed Airachnid’s fangs pulling on his lipplates they’d already retreated and showed themselves in a new smirk, along with the claw touches still lingering around his codpiece. Fragrant oil dripped into his armour seams where she pressed herself against him, and the sensation did nothing to soothe his pounding codpiece.

“I like to kill the cute mechs myself,” she purred with a wink, before shoving him out of the stall and leaving him to collect his dignity on the floor.


End file.
